Visions
by Nikki Altava
Summary: Flora is suddenly gifted with the ability to see into the future, in the most remarkable of visions. Though the visions are not necessarily pleasant, the Professor and Flora realise that they can help others... But not soon enough do they realise the true nature of the visions. Can Flora hold on long enough to see the most important vision of all: the one that will save Luke?


**AN: A re-write of a deleted re-write. Yeah, I have commitment issues... To stories. Or maybe I just get easily distracted...?**

**Enjoy! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Professor Layton.**

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><p><span><strong>Visions<strong>

Chapter One

As soon as Flora entered the flat she headed straight for the living room, almost collapsing on the settee. Ideally, she wanted to land on her bed, and bury her head under the covers, but she couldn't make it to her bedroom- even though it was only another ten feet away from the front door than the living room. She'd been certain she wouldn't make it home from school, and that she would faint on the bus or the street; she almost wanted to. After all, she wouldn't feel the pain if she were to fall unconscious, and all she wanted was for it to stop.

The headache had begun just as lunchtime at the Gressenheller School for Girls had reached an end that Wednesday afternoon. Flora, and her best friend, Joan, were lining outside the Art classroom, when a slight, but very sharp, ache had risen up across the side of her head, just above her hair line. There had been no cause for alarm, of course. It had been a noisy lunch break, and Flora hadn't drunk as much water as she normally would. She'd assumed it was dehydration, fatigue, or perhaps even the first signs of a cold. It was February, after all.

The afternoon lesson was ninety minutes long, but the painting lesson wasn't even halfway through by the time the pain had become unbearable. She'd rested her head on the desk, as she tried her best to draw the vase that had been placed on her and Joan's desk. Joan, of course, had noticed that Flora wasn't her usual self. She spent the rest of the lesson trying to convince Flora to tell their teacher, and go and see the school nurse, but Flora, not wanting to cause a fuss, had protested that she was fine and was just tired.

Squinting at the clock that sat above the mantelpiece, Flora saw that it was now quarter past four. The pain had certainly impacted the journey, as normally she'd be home just before four. The young girl had thought the headache to be bad enough in her Art class, but it was now much worse. Much, much worse. Her head was heavy with the weight of what felt like a hundred rocks, and now that she had laid herself down, she found that it was impossible to get back up again.

Within moments, she was fast asleep...

-X-X-

Flora's pale green eyes awoke with a startle. She blinked, purple dots bubbled in front of her eyes, as a high-pitched whistle rang in her ears. It took her several seconds to realise that it was just the kettle boiling. That meant one thing: the Professor was home.

Without thinking, she sat up.

A wave of dizziness hit her like a tidal, and for perhaps the third time that day, she thought she was about to faint. Inhaling sharply, she felt tears sting her eyes as she remembered the pain. A couple of the girls in her school had told stories of migraines; horrible, horrible headaches that lasted for days, created nausea, and made even the most simplest of tasks, such as getting up and out of bed, impossible. Was that what this was? A migraine?

"Flora! You're awake," the Professor's voice came from the entrance to the kitchen. His footsteps followed, and soon he was sitting next to her. Flora didn't see; she kept her eyes closed. However, she could imagine a frown creep on to his face as he approached her.

"Flora...?" there was definitely concern in his voice. "Are you quite all right there?"

It took her several seconds to reply.

"Erm...I think so..."

She felt his hand on her shoulder, and leant forward slightly to rest her forehead on her hands.

"Are you ill?"

"No," Flora paused before carrying on. "No, it's just a headache. Or a migraine, maybe..."

The young girl heard the Professor sigh, and then the room was silent for several seconds. She preferred it like that. The empty air didn't necessarily make the pain bearable, but it most definitely made it easier to deal with.

"I'm sorry if I disturbed you," the Professor said, as he stood up. She felt the cushions of the settee shift as he did so. "Would you like a cup of tea? It might help..."

Tea. The Professor's solution to everything.

When Flora had first arrived in London, and had gone to live with the Professor, she had suffered rather badly with the flu. The Professor had explained it well; living in a village of robots meant that Flora had never really had any need for an immune system, and therefore, had never naturally built one up like everyone else. Back then (that was almost two years ago now), the Professor's answer had been cups of tea, and rest.

"No. No thank you, Professor..." Flora murmured in response. She really was beginning to feel nauseas. Perhaps it really was a migraine. Or was she coming down with something else maybe? "I think I'm just going to go to my bedroom, if that's okay?"

"But of course, dear," the Professor said warmly. "I'm sure some rest will help."

Flora wasn't a hundred percent certain that she would be able to get to her room without falling, but to attempt it would hopefully be worth the comfort of her own bed. Perhaps it would even be quieter in there.

Slowly- very, very slowly- Flora used the arm of the settee to push herself up and support herself, once she stood. Her eyes opened even slower than she stood, and they only opened a fraction. The flat was dim, and as it was a Winter evening, it was already dark and so little light came in from the window, but it was still too bright for Flora. Nothing but the pitch black was comfortable.

Her knees were weak, and she knew that she'd struggle to get to her room, which was only a short distance away, without assistance. But, of course, she did not want to cause a fuss, and so instead of asking the Professor for help, she placed her hand against the wall, and used it to guide herself towards her bedroom.

She was almost there- and that was the worse thing.

She was just outside her bedroom door, her hand reaching down towards the door handle, when it began.

The flat didn't fade, it disappeared. Disappeared into simmering coils of ember flames. Rusty red sparks fizzled in her ears, popped again and again and again. Fiery tails danced in front of her eyes. They burnt, and the pain in her head burned with it. Agonisingly bright swarms of flames had engulfed Flora Reinhold, and she wanted to scream, but she couldn't even find it in herself to breathe. Dark holes left behind by the fire shrunk as the flames grew, conquering everything that Flora had ever known, and not even leaving ashes. She was burning. Burning alive.

She could barely think, and as the flares went on in a never-ending circle, she lost herself again and again. It felt as if she'd been burning for a thousand years, and now, barely anything remained. Apart from one thing:

The certainty that Flora had never so desperately wished she was dead.

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><p><strong>AN: Hi guys! I hope you enjoyed chapter one. (Kinda time for some self-promotion<strong> **now) **

**If you did enjoy it, check out my other story **_**Spectrum, **_**which is a Lost/Unwound Future AU, and maybe check out my next story when it's up, **_** A Perished Atmosphere, **_**which is also a Lost/Unwound Future AU. It should be up by Saturday at the latest! **

**And if you didn't like this, then maybe check them out anyway because they're very different! **

**Anyhow, a review would mean a lot! :) **

**Nikki~~**


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